He stands.
Eyes fixed upon the prize.
Inner monologue dictating his next move.
A blaze of greyed chest hair bursting from his button down
A fire down below as well, smoke escaping from the open hatch
Below his belt line.

She sits.
Her eyes dancing to her story’s beat.
So focused, fully engaged in the narrative she is reading
Unaware of the real story unfolding around her.

He girds himself, making a move, wading through fear.
A pause to lock eyes, then a smile separates the stranger divide.
He leans in, whispers in her left ear
Then walks away.
She laughs. Hard.
The smile lingers
Longer than this onlooker would have believed possible.

I tip my hat to you
Well done sir.
Well done indeed

[The Context: This scene happened a while back as I was waiting at Goolrick’s Pharmacy for baby girl’s medications. The man and woman were both in their late 50's, early 60's I’d assume. My man had received his medications and was about to leave when he saw…her. He began checking her out with such intensity, it sorta creeped me out. Well, that and his zipper was wide spankin’ open.

Whatever he whispered to her, it was pure gold. Oh how she laughed, like, put her book down had to take a moment kind of laughed. Her smile did not go away, even after he did. He didn’t do anything else, didn’t try to talk to her or ask anything of her. He only left her with something to make her day a little brighter. Nicely done sir.]